A tiny cluster of cells

Last week I realised my period was officially two weeks late. Or maybe it was one week late. My cycle seems to oscillate between 28 days and 35 days lately. Anyway, I was either one or two weeks late, so I decided to do a pregnancy test for the hell of it, even though I was close to 90% sure I wasn’t pregnant because I had no other signs or symptoms, as I usually do. Well, it came up positive, and so did the one I did the next day. So, okay! Pregnant! I made a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday morning. It’s Tuesday morning now! Why am I not at the doctor, you ask?

I had some spotting yesterday morning. Just a bit. I know what I would say to anyone else; that a bit of spotting early on can be totes norms. I googled it anyway and scared the crap out of myself, then reminded myself how stupid it is to google any sort of symptoms; from “my elbow just felt a bit itchy” to “I’m bleeding out my eyes” it’s all cancer and doom.

So I went to work, as usual. Only as soon as one of my colleagues asked how I was I started crying and blurted it all out. She took me into a counselling room and made me a herbal tea and told me to go to the doctor right now. So I did.

My doctor said “okay, quickly go now and get these blood tests and ultrasounds.” He said it can be totes norms and fines, especially if I wasn’t experiencing any pain. I told him I wasn’t, but I kind of was. Only a tiny bit though, so I thought, well, practically I’m not.

I wish now I’d said that I was, but I just didn’t want to hear about what it might mean. Isn’t that silly. It’s something an emotionally unstable person would do… lie about their symptoms to their doctor because they’re secretly hoping that if they don’t acknowledge them they don’t exist.

So, go get the blood test. The doctor said to go behind the surgery. I walked out the door and stood on the corner, staring blankly at the referral and looking vaguely around. An older man came up to me and asked me if I was looking for the pathology lab, and directed me there when I said I was. I still walked right past it.

I was feeling very anxious when she was drawing my blood, and trying not to hyperventilate and cry. She spoke soothingly to me of how she too used to be terrified of needles, and gave me lots of tips for getting through it. I said thank you instead of “ACTUALLY CAN YOU JUST TELL ME WHETHER I’M MISCARRYING OR NOT” and went to pee in a cup. My pee was a bit green from all my supplements.

At the ultrasound place the woman at the desk told me they’d need to make an appointment for me.

“Oh, my doctor said if you can’t do the scan immediately I have to go somewhere else that can.”

She said, “It’s not a matter of not being able to fit you in, it’s just that you need to prepare for it first by drinking a lot of water and then waiting an hour. When did you last go to the toilet?”

“Like five minutes ago, into a cup,” irritated thoughts directed at my doctor who hadn’t said anything about this.

She spoke to the sonographer who took me discretely aside and asked if I would be alright with having a vaginal ultrasound, which they could do straight away. I said yes, I’d had it done before, twice. She asked, “Oh really? When?” and I told her about my ovary. I didn’t tell her about the first pregnancy (when it was a dude who did it and it was very awkward), but then did later, when she asked if this was my first pregnancy. I said “No, I’ve had two abortions,” and then wondered if I should have specified the “two” bit and if she would judge me for it, but then realised it doesn’t matter, not at all.

A vaginal ultrasound probe looks exactly like a giant dildo attached to a long cord and covered in two condoms and a whole lot of lube. She asked if I would be more comfortable inserting it myself, and I said I didn’t mind. She inserted it far more efficiently than I could have. That lady knew her vaginas.

There was a screen showing the image on the wall opposite me, so I could see what she was seeing. She showed me the embryonic sac, and said, “based on its size, we’re looking at four weeks and four days. It’s less than two millimetres long, so is just too small to say whether or not it’s viable. All we can say at this point is, yes, it’s there. You’ll need to come back in two weeks, when it will have a heartbeat if it’s viable.”

She showed me my remaining ovary, and how it demonstrated it had released an egg. I must not have been paying too much attention because that part is pretty hazy.

She asked me when I’d started bleeding, and if I was experiencing any cramps. I said I wasn’t sure, that perhaps I was, but perhaps I was imagining them. She also said that spotting in the first trimester isn’t unusual.

I went to the bathroom on my way out and there was no more blood. I felt much better. I went about my day.

Later in the afternoon I noticed the cramps getting worse, and the blood came back. The bleeding became heavier as the day went on. It still wasn’t anything like a normal period — no blood in the sanitary pad I was wearing, just when I wiped. I thought that could still be okay. But the cramps… no. By the end of the day I was looking up whether it is safe to take naprogesic when pregnant (the answer was no) so I just had to sit on the couch and deal with these worsening cramps that probably meant this baby’s gonna die.

So it wasn’t a good night.

This morning I have no cramps and no blood. but I’m like, yeah… just waiting for it.

[Edit]: It’s 12pm, and here is the blood, and there are the cramps, and I just want to stay home in bed.

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O hey, hi my darling. I'm overocea & this is my journal. I've vowed to note my everyday inconsequence indefinitely, so that I can read it when i'm 80. I expect it to be hideously boring to anyone except an 80year old me.